


Two of a Kind

by emeraldorchids



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Childbirth, Divorce, F/M, Gen, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-01-15
Packaged: 2018-05-14 02:56:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5727112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emeraldorchids/pseuds/emeraldorchids
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Approximately 10 years before the movie, Miranda builds a relationship with Nigel while navigating her divorce from James. She learns of her pregnancy with the twins, and that only serves to complicate both relationships.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two of a Kind

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this years ago when I was compelled to write a pregnant-Miranda story, and abandoned it in favor of what became my story Bliss. This story operates as a flashback of sorts. Hope you enjoy. xo

Nigel quickly put on his robe and ran to answer the buzzer. It was 2 o'clock in the morning, and he figured it was just some twenty-somethings on their way home from the bar, goofing around. But, whoever was downstairs was unrelenting on the poor button. "Hello?" Nigel called.

"Nigel, it's me. Can I come up?"

_Buzzzzzzzzz._ He held down the buzzer for quite a while, giving his friend ample time to come inside. Tying his robe tightly around his waist, he unlatched the door and turned on a dim lamp before heading to the kitchen to start the coffee maker.

"Nigel," she said, entering the apartment and latching the door behind her. "Nigel, Nigel, Nigel," she sighed. She tossed her bag on the couch and hung her jacket on the coat tree before joining him in the kitchen.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked.

She took a deep breath as she leaned back against the sofa, her eyes focused on the floor. "I left James—for good this time."

"Wh—oh my. Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

"No, no. I am fine. It was nothing like that. I just," she paused and exhaled deeply. "I can't do it anymore. We had another fight about work and family and…we just don't see eye-to-eye," she said. "Fundamentally, it's just, I can't be his wife, and I can't keep pretending."

He kept quiet for a moment, waiting for her to continue.

"Can I stay here tonight?" she asked.

"Yes, of course! Oh, honey, you know I am so proud of you. You are so much more than that jerk. Too fabulous to be his wife for all eternity, if you ask me!" He poured two mugs of coffee and led Miranda over to the couch. "You're okay with it?"

Miranda clutched the hot drink and nodded. Nigel understood her in ways no other man had ever come close, and tonight, she was content knowing just that.

"Sweetheart, you can stay as long as you need," he added.

The next day, Miranda moved some of her clothes from James' place to Nigel's place in Soho. It was a gorgeous space, but only had one bathroom, one bedroom, and nowhere near the space Miranda required. Sleeping on his couch was not a permanent solution; Miranda planned to wait until the September issue was out before searching for a new place.

They had a system, and it worked out pretty well. Miranda was up nearly two hours before Nigel in the morning, and on most days, she was showered and dressed before he even woke. She was spending late nights at the office, and sometimes, Nigel would be in bed when she returned. It was working out quite well, as far as roommates in a one-bedroom apartment go.

Several weeks after Miranda showed up on his doorstep, Nigel woke to a strange noise. Thinking it was some twenty-somethings piling out of a cab downstairs, he pulled the covers over his head and tried to go back to sleep. When he heard a muffled cough coming from the bathroom, he crept out of bed and found Miranda looking pale and exhausted, splashing cool water in her face.

"You okay?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe.

"Yeah," she said. Her voice was weak and her eyes were a little glassy.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and led her back to the couch. "Can I get you a glass of water or tea? A cool cloth? Some tylenol?"

Miranda shook her head. "No, I'm—I'm not sick. This…I think…" her voice trailed off in the early morning darkness.

"If you need anything, I'm here, sweetie," Nigel said, kissing the top of her head before walking back to the bedroom. He may not be a woman, but he was pretty adept at reading between the lines.

Nigel pushed it out of his mind for a few days, until finally, he came home to find Miranda sitting on the couch, staring at a positive pregnancy test. He sat next to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, kissing her softly on the cheek.

"Nigel, I—" she began, instead turning and burying her head on his shoulder as tears took over.

"Shh," he said, holding her tightly. "I love you, honey. Whatever happens, know that I will always be here for you."

* * *

 

Over the next few weeks, and after seeing her doctor for confirmation, Miranda gathered her courage and arranged to meet James for dinner to discuss the divorce papers he had sent over right after she moved out.

"Miranda," he said as he stood to greet her. "You look amazing tonight. Look, about the papers—"

"James," she said, quickly getting to the point, "I'm pregnant." His eyes widened, and she reached down for her glass of water. She couldn't make eye contact with him. She couldn't face the disappointment or disgust in his eyes. After all, he was he one who didn't believe it was the right time to bring children into the world.

"Is that why—did you know that night? Is that why you got so upset and walked out?" he asked.

She met his eyes and calmly set her water glass down. "Absolutely not. I got upset because of the disrespectful words that came out of your mouth. Because we are two very different people with no hope of compromise." She absentmindedly reached across her abdomen protectively. "I had no idea until a few weeks later."

After a brief silence, James asked, "How far? I mean, are you keeping it?"

Before Miranda could reply, the server approached their table. James ushered him away, but the damage had been done.

Miranda stood up and pulled a sonogram from her clutch, placing it on the table. "They're twins—our daughters," she explained. "And of course I am keeping them."

With that, she turned and left the restaurant, anxious to get out in the fresh air. Her driver wouldn't be back to pick her up for another thirty minutes at least, and Nigel was spending the night at his new boyfriend's place. She would never be able to catch a cab in Manhattan at this time, so her only option was to wait. She made her way to a bench around the corner and took a seat as tears welled in her eyes.

James' words stirred emotions within that she was not prepared to handle. The conversation with her doctor that termination would require a surgical procedure at this point. That she wouldn't be a capable mother. That she would be alone with two babies. The headlines when the press caught wind of her pregnancy. That she was of 'advanced maternal age' at 41. That she wished her mother were still alive right now.

"Miranda, thank god I caught up to you," James said, sitting next to her on the bench, distracting her from her rumination. "Look, before you get up, I just want to talk. I know I was an asshole, and I'm sorry. I wasn't prepared. I mean, we talked about kids, and you know the idea terrifies me."

"I know. That's why I always made you use protection."

"So wait…they're not? Ohh. That night in the pool out in Sag?"

Miranda nodded. "I haven't been with anyone else."

"Wait, so that was, what, four months ago?"

"Eighteen weeks and two days, to be specific," she said, subconsciously cradling her growing belly.

"Wait, stand up."

Miranda rolled her eyes and stood from the bench, pulling her blazer back so he could see her bump. When she sat back down, James' eyes were glued to her midsection.

"Can I—can I touch it?" he whispered.

Miranda nodded, reaching for his hands and holding them to her belly.

"This—this is so incredible. Miranda, we, we made this. My god."

She smiled and squeezed his hand.

"My god," he whispered, reaching up and gently brushing the strawberry-blonde hair away from her face. "Miranda, I don't know how this is possible, but you're even more beautiful today than the day I married you."

She felt a chill run through her body and she wasn't entirely certain it was due to the spring breeze. "Let's get out of here, huh?" she said.

James wanted to take her home, but she wasn't ready to reveal where she had been staying. When he began driving her back towards his place, she made a few calls and secured a room for them at the Fairmont. He was playing his cards perfectly, and just for one night, she succumbed to her raging hormones.

The following morning, James apologized over and over for the way he acted at the restaurant, and the night she walked out, begging her to come back for good. Miranda admitted that she would like their girls to grow up knowing their father, and, well, that was a start. Before parting, they made arrangements to meet for lunch the following week.

In the coming weeks, Miranda and James saw more of each other, though she refused to move back into his condo, or to even spend the night with him again. She was still living at Nigel's, and between his late nights at his new boyfriend's loft and her growing pregnancy aches, she started sleeping in his custom king-sized bed, which was large enough for both of them to share without being awkward.

Several weeks of house-hunting later, she finally found a place to live—a townhouse off of Park Avenue that required some significant renovations. James helped contribute to the down payment since it would be his daughters' primary home, and renovations on the first and second floors began immediately. The master bedroom was located on the second floor, and once they were finished with the initial renovation, which included upgraded heating/cooling, electrical, plumbing, and security, Miranda could move in and they would continue to the nursery on the third floor, and all of the other bedrooms.

Miranda's pregnancy progressed without any major complications, though, being overly-cautious, she had her doctor's office on speed dial for every little thing. On three separate occasions, she went to the emergency room, only to be sent home with an antacid.

When the first part of the renovations on the townhouse were complete, Miranda arranged for her things to be moved from storage to her new home. In the first week, she hardly slept at all—something about being alone in such a huge house left her uneasy.

Later that week, she was scheduled to meet with James over dinner, but after six sleepless nights, she didn't feel like sitting in a restaurant making small talk, so she called him to cancel.

"Can I come by the new place and bring something over?" he asked.

"Oh, to the townhouse? Um, I suppose."

"Great. I'll stop at the store on the way. Have a taste for anything in particular?"

"No. And remember, I haven't unpacked the pots and pans yet," she added.

"Noted. Sure you don't want a strawberry milkshake or something?"

"Wait, yes, that does sound good," she said.

That night, over two deli roast beef sandwiches, fries, and milkshakes, James casually invited himself to spend the night. Miranda was beyond exhausted, and she was not in the mood to put up a fight.

However, when she woke up in the middle of the night with a dull ache in her back, she wasn't expecting his arm to be draped over her.

"What the fuck, James?" she hissed, pushing herself out of bed. "What makes—" she stopped abruptly and reached out to the bed as she swayed on her feet.

"Miranda?" James called as he jumped out of bed.

"I just—" she again swayed, but her hand slipped off the bed and she fell to her knees.

James rushed to her side and helped ease her to the ground. "Are you okay? Do you need me to call the doctor?"

"No, no, just give me a minute," she said, sitting back on her heels.

"What happened?" he asked as he poured her a glass of water, his hand gently rubbing circles on her back.

"I stood up too quickly. My doctor warned me about this now that I'm farther along—fainting and dizziness, that is."

"Here, let me help you up," he said, reaching for her arm.

She shook her head. "What made you think you could share my bed?"

"Well, you said I could stay. I just assumed—but if you don't want—"

"What do _you_ want? What did you think I wanted? Our marriage is over. I can't keep letting you back in like this."

"But Miranda, our daughters will be here in less than two months. I thought we agreed that I could be a part of their life. Are you taking that back?"

"No, I am not taking that back." She reached for his hand and carefully stood and excused herself to the bathroom. When she returned, James was buttoning his shirt. She walked over and sat on the edge of the bed. "I'm sorry. I was not expecting to wake up next to you, and I overreacted. I want these girls to know you, to know their father. I just can't keep fighting off your advances. I'm too tired for this, James."

"Miranda," he said, sitting next to her on the bed. "I have an idea. Let me move in. We won't have to sleep together—I can take the guest room on the third floor, and until it's ready, I can sleep on the couch. Or if you prefer, I can wait until they're born. With two newborns, you're going to need a nanny anyway. Let me help."

She looked up at him through teary eyes. "James Francis Sterling, you keep finding ways to work yourself back into my life, don't you?" she said, nodding as she dabbed at the tears in her eyes. "Okay, okay. And since you're here, can you find my heating pad? I think it's in one of the boxes in the hallway."

He smiled and ducked out of the room, returning a while later with her heating pad and an extension cord. "Can I help—give you a back rub or anything?" he asked as he plugged it in. "You're the one doing all the work here, and yet as beautiful as ever."

Miranda rolled her eyes. She would give anything for a massage, but for the same reason she didn't want him to share her bed, she was hesitant to accept. When she was staying with Nigel, sometimes he would rub her shoulders or her feet after a stressful day; it felt wonderful, and Miranda was comfortable because his intentions were clear as day. With James, she couldn't be so sure.

"Miranda, look, I know I can't win you back. I loved you once, and, well, we have twin girls on the way as proof of that. Let me take care of you—and the girls. I'll keep my place, so you can kick me out whenever you need to. Please?"

She sighed and nodded, turning over to her side. "I trust you. Please don't screw it up, because I doubt I will be able to forgive you," she said. "You can start with my lower back—right there."

* * *

 

When Miranda was at her 33-week appointment, her doctor was surprised to see how much she had grown. Her doctor advised that she would likely not make it to her scheduled cesarean section at 40 weeks, so they rescheduled for 38, noting that she could expect labor to begin at any point before then. Though her doctor also advised she take her official maternity leave, Miranda wanted to wait until it was absolutely necessary. Aside from moving a little more slowly and being otherwise uncomfortable, there was nothing preventing her from work.

The builders finished the third-floor renovations, so James spent some time moving in to the guest room that happened to be adjacent to the twins' nursery.

Late one night, James was watching television in his room while he was working on a brief. He thought he heard a noise downstairs, but shrugged it off, as Miranda was frequently getting up and walking around or using the bathroom during the night. When he heard it again, he muted the TV and heard her calling for him.

"James, can you take me to the hospital, or should I call a cab?" she called from the second-floor landing.

"I'll take you. Let me just grab my jacket," he said, hurrying around. He helped her down the stairs, and couldn't help but notice how heavily she was leaning on him. "What's going on? Is it contractions?"

"Yes, I think so," Miranda said, grimacing.

Four hours later, James helped Miranda back into the house, and into her bed upstairs. "I'm sorry," Miranda said. "I thought this was it, and here it's just Braxton-Hicks."

"No need to apologize. You heard the nurse, she said this happens all the time with first-time moms," James said. He covered her with the quilt and gently tucked her hair behind her ear. "We are going to be parents, can you believe that? It's incredible. _You_ are incredible, sweetheart."

Miranda smiled. "James, will you stay in here for a while?"

"Sure," he said, trying to figure out if he should camp out on the small sofa or on the bed.

"I just—I was scared earlier. I was calling for you and you weren't answering. I'm sorry," she said, covering her eyes to hide the tears.

"Oh, honey, of course. Tomorrow I will setup the baby monitors, and we can start using those if you'd like."

She nodded. "You can sleep up here if you stay on your side," she said with a chuckle.

Over the next few days, Miranda experienced more Braxton-Hicks contractions and increasing discomfort due to her enormous size. She couldn't make it up the stairs without help, so every night she would fall asleep in her recliner waiting for James to come home and help her upstairs. Getting in and out of the town car was so strenuous that Miranda asked Roy to try a few different models of company vehicles until he found a cross between a Mercedes and a minivan that seemed to work perfectly.

It was getting difficult to work at her desk, as well. Her belly had grown so big that even when she stretched her arms out to her desk, she couldn't reach the keyboard or notebook. She had to turn to the side, which wasn't helping her ongoing back pain. She was almost exclusively wearing flat sandals and maxi dresses, and as she approached her due date, she lost her appetite for food altogether.

On Tuesday, at her 36-week appointment, her doctor once again urged her to go on maternity leave, but Miranda insisted she would be fine. There were only twelve days left until the scheduled date of her C-section, and she was determined to make that date.

The following Monday, Miranda was sitting for a Calvin Klein showing. She had been feeling a little lightheaded in the morning, and despite Nigel's pleading, she joined the team for the afternoon showing, which had been relocated to the _Runway_ offices for Miranda's comfort.

When they were finished, Miranda's Accessories Editor was helping Calvin's team pack things up just outside of her office. Nigel looked over at Miranda and couldn't help but notice how flushed she was. Her forehead was damp with sweat and her eyes were glazed over.

Nigel waited for the others to make their way out of earshot before walking over and sitting next to Miranda. "Sweetie, let me take you home," he said. He was prepared to convince her, but she simply nodded in agreement.

"Do you want a glass of water?" he asked as he took her arm and helped her from the chair.

"Oooh," she gasped as she stood, leaning forward and clutching Nigel's arms. "I—I—" she stammered, her arm reaching down to cradle her belly.

"Here, sit back down," Nigel said, guiding her back to the chair. "Take a deep breath. What are you feeling?" he asked as he retrieved a glass of water from her desk.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Nigel set the water on the table and gently massaged her shoulders. "Are you feeling contractions?" he asked.

"No, I don't think so. This was—I don't know, my lower back, just a cramping," she said. "Give me a minute, I'll be fine," she said, accepting the glass of water.

"You're burning up, sweetie. Are you still feeling lightheaded?"

She nodded and closed her eyes as she took another sip of water.

"Will you need help walking down to th—" Nigel froze as he looked down to see what shoes she was wearing and noticed the blood pooling on the floor between her feet. "Jessica!" he shouted to Miranda's assistant, who appeared right away. "Call 9-1-1, please. It's an emergency," he added.

"Wait, what?" Miranda asked.

"You're bleeding."

"No, no, this can't be happening. I have a C-section scheduled on Friday. I'm sure it's noth—" she paused and held her breath, her fingers tightly gripping Nigel's arm. "It's nothing."

"Okay sweetie, we're going to get you to the hospital, and just make sure it's nothing," he said as he softly pressed a kiss to her forehead. He walked over and asked Jessica to give Miranda some privacy and have the staff out of the way when the paramedics in—preferably with a wheelchair and not a stretcher.

Nigel returned and felt her hand gripping his arm tightly once again and he turned his attention back to her. "Pain?"

She nodded, her eyes squeezed shut.

"Breathe. In and out. Don't hold your breath," he coached. "Contractions?"

"I don't know… Maybe?"

Nigel gently rubbed her back for a few minutes. "Will it help if you stand and walk a bit?"

She shrugged and pushed herself out of the chair, immediately swaying forward and losing her balance.

Nigel had his arm around her the whole time, but with her added size and change in center-of-gravity, he was only able to soften her fall to the ground.

"Miranda?" he called, kneeling next to her. Her eyes were closed and he feared that she had passed out. "Sweetie," he said, softly tapping her cheeks. "Miranda, come back to us."

She blinked a few times, then they heard the paramedics coming from the elevator.

"Are you okay right now?" he asked.

Mmm-hmm, she nodded.

"Okay, hear that? Sounds like they're here. We'll get you to the hospital and the doctor will check you out."

"Nigel, do not speak to me like a child. I am grown woman."

"Right, sorry," he said.

Once the paramedics came in, they gave Miranda an oxygen mask right away and helped her up and into the wheelchair. After an initial exam, they quickly rushed her downstairs to the ambulance, and at her insistence, Nigel rode with them.

While en route to the hospital, they connected her to a fetal heart rate monitor, and the EMT noted that both babies were doing okay, but "twin A" had a heart rate slightly lower than he would like to see. In addition, the EMT was concerned that Miranda's blood pressure was dropping dangerously low and she was growing increasingly paler.

"Are the babies okay?" she asked weakly.

After getting confirmation from the EMT, Nigel leaned over and brushed her hair away from her forehead. "Yes, the babies are okay. You're doing great, Miranda."

The next few minutes were a blur. When they pulled into the ambulance bay at NY Presbyterian, Miranda was whisked away to a room. Her doctor, who arrived minutes before they did, quickly did an ultrasound to assess the situation. Several alarms began going off and they quickly transferred her from the ambulance gurney to a cart, all while doctors and nurses shouted directions at one another.

"Excuse me, what's happening?" Nigel asked someone.

"She's loosing a lot of blood, and mom and baby are both in distress. We're taking her to the OR for an emergency c-section."

"What?!"

"Are you the father?"

"No, but—I'm her brother," he said, thinking quickly.

"Okay, you'll have to scrub in to come with her. Excuse me," she said, pushing past him and pulling the curtain.

Nigel was still holding Miranda's purse, so he took out her phone and called James as he made his way to the scrub room.

"Hi Miranda."

"No, James. This is Nigel."

"Nigel—what happened? Is Miranda okay?"

"I don't know. She started bleeding and cramping, and we rushed her to the ER, and now they said they're taking her for an emergency c-section," Nigel said.

"Are you at Presbyterian? And you're with her?"

"Yes and yes."

"Okay, I am on my way."

Just as Nigel finished changing into scrubs, they were wheeling Miranda out of the room. Her clothes had been replaced by a hospital dressing gown, and she was connected to multiple monitors and IVs.

"Miranda, sweetie," he called, catching up with the cart as the nurses wheeled it down the hallway.

"Nigel. I'm scared," she whispered.

"Shh, it will be okay. Your big brother Nigel will be right here with you, okay?" he said with a smile.

She smiled and nodded. "Thank you."

He watched while the nurses and doctors arranged everything in the operating room. An anesthesiologist gave Miranda an injection, and she quickly drifted off to sleep.

"Unless you want to watch the birth first-hand, I suggest you stay close to her," a nurse advised as she setup a curtain. Always the squeamish one, Nigel took her advice.

Within a few minutes, Nigel heard a sharp cry pierce the air. He reached down and squeezed Miranda's hand, kissing her gently on the forehead and whispering in her ear. He waited anxiously to hear the second baby's cries, but there was nothing.

What felt like hours later, a nurse came by and gave Miranda some additional medication in the IV, and Nigel asked what was happening. The nurse explained that the second baby had been deprived of oxygen for a while and was immediately taken to the neonatal intensive care unit.

"So what's happening now?" Nigel asked.

The nurse led Nigel from the room as he explained, "Miranda has lost a lot of blood. We are attempting to put a stop to it so we can close her up, but she started hemorrhaging. The placenta started to separate from the uterine wall—maybe even started last week. We had to remove it in pieces. It was a lot of blood—we've already given her two transfusions. I actually have to ask you to wait in the other room at this point."

Nigel nodded and followed him out. In the adjacent room, another nurse was finishing cleaning up "Priestly, Baby A" and handed the little one over to Nigel.

"Hello, Cassidy," he said, totally in awe of the tiny human being. "Welcome to the world, sweetheart," he whispered. "Your mommy and your daddy can't wait to meet you. I'm your uncle Nigel."

Nigel sat there cradling Cassidy for quite a while. When a nurse came in, he asked how Miranda was but the only update was that they were trying to get the bleeding to stop.

A few minutes later, James came rushing in the door. "Where is she? How are they?"

"Miranda is still in surgery. Caroline was rushed to NICU, so I haven't seen her," Nigel said. "Cassidy here is doing fine."

James paced back and forth a few times, clearly torn between wanting to hold Cassidy, checking on Caroline, and seeing Miranda.

"Go see Caroline," Nigel said. "They kicked us out of the operating room. I'll stay here with Cassidy."

"Okay," James said, heading out the door, then rushing back in to give his daughter a kiss on the cheek.

Nigel sat there holding the baby for what felt like hours. Every time he asked for an update on Miranda, it seemed like they were still trying to stop the bleeding. Finally, about five hours after the babies were born, a nurse wheeled Miranda into the room where Nigel was curled up with Cassidy on his chest. She was still connected to oxygen, and her color was a very pale grey, but she looked as if she was beginning to wake from the anesthesia.

The nurse set a mauve plastic pitcher on the bedside table. "If she's thirsty, she can only have ice chips. She's still on a catheter, so she shouldn't get out of bed for anything yet. If she wants to hold or nurse the baby, you need to help her—her muscles are still recovering from the medication and she does not have her strength," she said. "We're not out of the woods yet—she needs to be careful and not exert herself in any way. We'll be back in periodically to check for any bleeding."

"Thank you," Nigel said. He set down Cassidy in the bassinet next to the bed and gently sat on the edge, reaching for Miranda's hand. She was still asleep, so he laid his head on the bed and dozed off himself.

A while later, he felt her fingers gently brushing his cheek.

"Hi," he whispered, squeezing her hand.

"Nigel…my babies…."

"Shh, shh, they're fine. Cassidy is here, and James is with Caroline. You just rest, okay?"

"Let me see her," she said.

Nigel reached over and picked up the newborn, careful not to wake her, and brought her to Miranda's arms.

Miranda reached out in awe. "Cassidy, baby…You are absolutely perfect." She turned to Nigel and asked, "Where is Caroline?"

Nigel placed Cassidy back in the bassinet. "She's in the NICU. She had a little difficulty breathing when she was born, but they were hoping to stabilize her soon."

Miranda reached her hand up to cover her eyes as the tears began to fall. "What happened? Why was it an emergency? Could—could she have died?"

"Calm down," Nigel said, softly stroking her arms. "You need to rest. _You_ could have died, Miranda. I don't know the details, but you were losing a lot of blood and had several transfusions. Right now, you are still pale as a ghost. The nurse said it is very important that you rest and something about you not being out of the woods yet," he said, squeezing her hand tightly. "Please do this for me, for your girls. Please try to rest."

Miranda nodded. "Go check on Caroline for me, please?"

Nigel nodded and headed out of the room, first stopping at the nurse's station to let them know he was leaving Miranda and Cassidy alone in the room.

Upstairs in the NICU, James was standing next to an incubator, gazing at another perfect tiny human being. When he heard the door open, he saw Nigel and jumped. "Is Miranda okay? Cassidy? Something wrong?"

"Calm down, they are both fine and resting. Miranda is concerned about Caroline, how is she?"

"I think she's okay now. She was really blue—I mean, purple, almost—when I got here. The nurse gave her some medication, and she's getting a lot of oxygen in here," he said. "They're pretty sure there was no brain damage or anything, so that's a relief. I imagine they will keep her here for a few more hours to monitor her before she can go with Cassidy."

"Did they say what happened to Miranda?" Nigel asked.

"One of the nurses said something about a placental abruption, like it started tearing away from the womb, which is why Miranda was bleeding so heavily, and also what was causing Caroline's distress," he explained. "I honestly don't know much about all of these pregnancy things, so I just wanted to know that everyone was okay," he added with a shrug.

"I was worried Miranda wasn't going to make it. They spent five hours trying to stop her bleeding. The more I think about it, she was probably bleeding all morning and just didn't know it, which is why it came on so quickly. She was lightheaded in the morning, as well as during the showing."

"She went to work today?!" James shouted.

"Shh! Yes, she came in around noon. I was prepared to send her home promptly at 1:30 when we were finished, and that's when everything happened," Nigel explained.

James began pacing the room. "She told me she was on maternity leave. I told her not to go to work."

Nigel rolled his eyes. He could only take so much of James's bullshit. "Well it's a good thing she came in then, huh? Who would have been there to catch her when she passed out or to call an ambulance if she was by herself? She would have been dead by the time you got home," he hissed.

"Fuck you. You know nothing about what would have happened."

Nigel calmly stepped away and nodded. As he made his way to the nurses' station, he gave them specific instructions to not let James see Cassidy or Miranda, and got a little more information on Caroline's condition. It seemed she was doing fine now, so Nigel requested that she be moved to Miranda's room as soon as possible.

Miranda was sleeping soundly when he returned, so he took a seat on the couch and guarded the door. Several hours later, a nurse brought Caroline to her mother's and sister's room while another nurse explained to James that he was not permitted to enter.

"What do you mean, _her brother_ gave instructions?" he bellowed. His voice was loud and could be heard clearly through the door.

"Is that James?" Miranda asked, stirring.

"Yeah. I told them not to let him in here," Nigel said. He couldn't help but crack a smile.

Miranda rolled her eyes. "Nigel, he's been living with me at the townhouse."

"What!? Why didn't you tell me?"

"Embarrassed. I needed someone, and I couldn't ask you."

"What on earth—of course you could have."

"You were just starting to get serious with Nick. I didn't want to be the needy, pregnant friend who came between you."

"Wait, so are you and James back together?" he asked.

"NO. Not at all. He was staying in the guest room mostly. I want him to actively be their father," she said.

Just then a baby started crying and Miranda looked over at the two bassinets. "Is that Caroline?" she asked.

Nigel smiled and nodded. "She's still getting some oxygen, but otherwise perfectly healthy." He carefully picked her up and held her out for Miranda, who once again was in awe of her daughter.

"Nigel, thank you for everything," she said, looking up at him with tears in her eyes. "I don't know what I've ever done to deserve your love and support, but we wouldn't be here right now without you."

"Oh, Miranda, I cannot think of anyone more deserving."

She reached out and held his hand, squeezing tightly. "Nigel, you are like family to me, and I hope you know I'm here if you ever need anything. I also hope you will be there for Caroline and Cassidy someday."

"Of course. And the girls already had some bonding time with their Uncle Nigel."

Miranda smiled. "It's late—why don't you head home and get some rest. I will be here for a few days with them, but I don't want the September planning to fall behind."

Nigel chuckled. "Yes, boss. Shall I send the father in?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes. And please be amicable, or our family holidays could be very awkward."

"Will do. I will come by in the morning to check on you beautiful ladies. Until then, goodnight."

A few minutes later, James came in just as a nurse was finishing changing the bandage on Miranda's incision.

"Hey," he said carefully.

"Hey," she said, smiling. She looked exhausted, but her beaming smile was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

He waited for the nurse to leave, then took a seat on the edge of the bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Exhausted, sore, and in complete love with those two," she said, looking over at the bassinets.

He carefully handed her one of the babies while he took the other. She moved over on the bed and made room for him to curl up next to her, their daughters in their arms. When she finally looked up at him, he was gazing into her eyes. Just for a brief moment, she longed for the four of them to be a family, to take him back fully into her life and her heart.

He leaned over and kissed her, and they parted when they heard the snap of a polaroid camera.

"It was a perfect picture of Mom, Dad, and babies," the nurse said. "I couldn't resist." She shook the photo for a few minutes before handing it to Miranda and returning to change the sheets in the bassinets.

"We have such a beautiful family, Mir," he said, kissing her on the cheek as they looked at the photo.

"I love this photo, and I love these girls more than I thought myself capable. And I love you for giving us them…but I want to go through with the divorce."

"What? I thought everything was going well. Maybe it's just hormones and you need some time—"

"No, I don't need time. Stay in the house with us for the next six months or so—until the girls start walking. After that, we can figure out some sort of schedule," she said.

James took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair. "I love you, Miranda. And I'm sorry. I don't think I ever said that."

Miranda smiled and laid her head on his shoulder as she looked down at her daughters. "I know. Thank you."

.

.

The end.


End file.
